


Learning to Love (365 Days Left)

by ilikeyouxactually



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, Alternate Universe- Soul Mates, Connor is the beast, M/M, Oliver is the beauty, Slow Build, Soul Mate AU, beastly au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-17 23:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3547520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilikeyouxactually/pseuds/ilikeyouxactually
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor has been going through life, wooing and seducing people left and right without even batting an eye. As fate would have it, his days of seduction are over. Now, he must learn to love his soul mate, a stranger he has a brief encounter with when leaving a bar. The catch? His charms cease to work on any one who isn't his soul mate. Double catch? His soul mate must learn to love him as well, despite his many flaws. Being on a time crunch, can Connor the player learn to love? Can he beat the clock before he loses everything-even his soul mate-forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Got inspired to do a long fic, so here you go! I was requested to do a Beauty and the Beast AU, so this is my interpretation. Enjoy!
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](http://ilikeyouxactually.tumblr.com).

If you were to tell Connor Walsh a few months ago that life wasn’t all about having a pretty face and getting what you wanted, he would have laughed at you. Laughed right in your face and told you that you were dead wrong. Because for all of his life, that was what he thought. As long as you were good looking and knew how to use it in your favor, you could do anything—and that was all that mattered.

That was his life. People always telling him how beautiful and handsome and sexy he was, and him using that. He would have anyone he wanted with a bat of his eye, or an upturn of his lips that formed the perfect devious smile that could bring anyone to their knees.

Connor took pride in who he was, and what he did. Being able to have _anyone_ ; it was a true accomplishment. Commitment was never something he wanted, anyways. So if he slept around a bit—a lot—who the hell cared? He didn’t. He was young, having fun, and didn’t have any other cares in the world.

But life, as it would have it, would not accept the lifestyle that Connor chose. To be so heartless and go around like he was the only one that mattered—it was cruel. Cruel and torturous. Breaking the hearts of all those left in the wake of his path. He would build people up so much, make them feel like they were the absolute world to him, and just as quickly, tear them down. Bend and break them—use them until they couldn’t even breathe.

And he would just walk away with a smug grin on his face. Another conquest completed—achieved even. And that’s who Connor Walsh was. The guy that would destroy all those around him for the simple reason that he _could_. The sad part was that his victims often _knew_ of his track record. And maybe it was because of that that they were just as eager and willing to satisfy him. They didn’t mind being another tally mark on the wall, another notch in Connor’s pride. Because even though they would inevitably mean nothing to Connor, he meant everything to them. To be able to satisfy Connor Walsh was something that _they_ could take pride in.

Only, this wasn’t the plan that fate would have. Connor would need to learn that just because you have this power, doesn’t mean you can just use it on everyone you meet. Having the ability to charm your way in and out of whatever you please is both a blessing and a burden. In Connor’s case, it was the largest burden he could have ever imagined. If only he knew then what he knew now.

Connor had to do the one thing he never thought he would ever have to do: he had to learn to love someone. Love someone chosen _for_ him. A soul mate. The greatest challenge he would ever have—loving someone. Someone who never loved, because to love was commitment, and that was something he despised. However, he wouldn’t just have to learn to love. No, he needed to make his soul mate fall in love with him too. But there was a catch. From the moment he met his soul mate and onward, he would lose all ability to flirt with others. He physically would not be able to look at anyone else—being completely forced into only having eyes for this one person. Having no choice but to try to love them. And if he _tried_ looking at anyone else, those people would just deny him.

His soul mate wouldn’t have it easy either. They needed to learn to love Connor despite _all_ of his negative qualities. Selfish. Arrogant. Cocky. Stubborn. And just being an all around _unpleasant_ person. Learn to love him, and also show him how to be kind, loving, tender, and compassionate. To love someone despite their flaws was not an easy task. Especially when Connor was on a time crunch. He would have a year’s time to accomplish this.

If the task wasn’t fulfilled by a year, Connor would suffer greatly. He would never again be able to woo anyone into his spider web of lies and deceit. He would lose his soul mate, too. But worst of all, once he lost his soul mate forever, he would forever only feel the heartache and despair of everyone he ever hurt, but also the devastating anguish of never having his soul mate again. All he would feel for the rest of his life, and all of eternity, would be the deep undying love for the one person who he could never be with again.

Or at least, that was what he had dreamed about one evening after yet another glorious conquest of seduction. Connor had awoken with a start, his body covered in a thin layer of cool sweat; his previous night’s lover lay sleeping soundly beside him. The man didn’t even stir when Connor slipped out of bed in a frantic frenzy, and eventually out of the apartment—once his clothes from the night before were pulled on, and his heart rate returned to a semi normal level. Only, it didn’t. He _knew_ that the dream was just that—a dream. So why couldn’t he shake this horrible sinking feeling that it was true? That what was conveyed to him through his unconsciousness was real? He didn’t have time to think about it. Right now all he could do was go home, get dressed in some fresh clothes, and get to work.

His morning was so far anything but ideal. The signal that it was a bad day should have been when he first woke up. But it wasn’t. It should have definitely been a sign of a bad day when the elevator in his building was out of service and he nearly tripped up the stairs. But it wasn’t. The definite sign should have been when he stepped inside his apartment, only to trip over his shoes--which he had apparently left _directly_ in front of the door—and land flat on his face. But it wasn’t. Everyone had a bad day now and then, right? No big deal. Only, his troubles were only just beginning. Following the face plant on the floor, Connor then went on to stub his toe on his bedroom door, cut himself trimming his facial hair, have _no_ clean clothes left to wear, and then nearly scald his hand as he went to pour himself a cup of coffee. By then, he figured it might just be best to stay in bed all day and not move. Unfortunately, Professor Keating—Annalise, his boss, would murder him if he weren’t at work on time.

So, he slipped on his cleanest clothes—which consisted of a navy blue v-neck short sleeve shirt, and a black pair of tight jeans—and sped in his car off to work. He hadn’t even remembered his jacket, which he instantly realized and regretted once he was parked outside Annalise’s house. _Great_. Now he was going to be freezing all day. Even on a spring day, it felt like the Antarctic in Philly. Letting out a strained sigh, he shoved open his car door, and trudged inside the Keating home clutching the strap of his shoulder bag.

“You’re late” was all he heard as he stepped through the door. And yeah, he _knew_ he was freaking late. But maybe if he explained the morning’s events, he would get out of it. But that was more effort than he had at the moment. The bag on his shoulder was quickly shrugged off as he collapsed to the couch, thankful to be able to just _breathe_ for the first time this morning.

“What the hell happened to you?” Came Michaela’s voice as she carefully sat beside him, adjusting her skirt underneath herself as she sat. Connor just rolled his eyes, head falling back in exasperation. He couldn’t deal with _any_ of this right now. The last thing he wanted was to be here. “You look like a shitty, wannabe, teenage hipster who hasn’t slept in days. Wanna talk about it?” Michaela was one of his closest friends at the Keating law firm. The only one who really understood him and seemed to comfort him even when she was being relentless and annoying the shit out of him.

“I just didn’t have a good night last night. Or this morning. Just feel on edge, I guess.” It was a quick and easy excuse. Knowing Michaela, she wouldn’t buy a wink of it, but she would pretend. And that was what Connor needed right now. That, and to look forward to tonight when he could go to a bar, get some drinks in him, and hook up with a stranger to make him forget everything.

The rest of work was ridiculous. It didn’t even feel like work. Annalise was out of the office, leaving Bonnie and Frank basically babysitting everyone. Their colossal task for the day was filling out paperwork. Filling out paper work and organizing files. If Connor knew how uneventful the day he would have been, he would’ve just stayed in bed all day and shut out the world. But apparently the universe just wanted to make him suffer. If only he knew what he was in for.

The second Bonnie and Frank released them from their duties, Connor skid out of the office as fast as he could—before anyone could even get in a “bye” or “see you later.” And that was how he wanted it. Climbing into his car, he let out a heavy breath, speeding off to his favorite bar.

Upon arrival, he slumped down at the bar, ordering himself a Maker’s Manhattan—his favorite. As he sipped his drink, he glanced around the bar, trying to find someone that looked easy, and willing to get whisked away. There were a few men that had caught his attention—ladies weren’t really his _thing_. Unfortunately, every time he made eye contact with _any_ guy, the latter would just turn away, acting as if Connor didn’t exist. Frustration boiled inside him. _What the hell_? It was like his charm had suddenly been shut off, and no one was interested in him. Connor quickly downed his drink before approaching a tall blonde in the corner who was sitting by himself.

“Hey there.” Connor greeted warmly, his lips turned upwards ever slightly to give off an amused expression. The guy seemed to give him a response of _pity_ , biting his lip as he stared up at Connor.

“Hi… uh—sorry but I’m waiting for my boyfriend.” Connor nodded simply. No big deal, it happened sometimes. Although, it didn’t really happen. Most guys—boyfriend or not—gave into him. _Weird_. He gave the man a curt nod before slumping over to the bar again, to order himself another drink. The second one was downed quickly, almost no hesitation as the alcohol burned his throat.

He approached a few more guys, each of them turning him down immediately. This wasn’t normal. This never happened. Men usually bent over backwards for Connor—but tonight it was _him_ who was desperately trying to get some attention. After shooting back a couple more drinks, he decided to call it a night, sick and tired of being so unsuccessful.

Before leaving the bar, he went to grab his jacket, sadness washing over at the realization that it was at home, strewn out on the couch. An exasperated sigh slipped past his pouted lips as he stumbled out of the bar. As he was walking out, a man was walking in. He was nearly the same height as Connor; thick, round-framed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Connor normally wouldn’t have given the man a second look on any other normal day—one where he wasn’t failing so miserably at being able to seduce people. But this wasn’t a normal day. So, Connor decided _fuck it_ and let his eyes meet the stranger’s for the briefest moment. Brown pools of warm milk chocolate were what he was greeted with, and it nearly knocked the breath right out of his lungs. And then something _really_ strange happened—the man _smiled_ at him. A true, genuine smile. That smile alone made Connor’s chest tighten. Panic and terror set in. _No one_ ever did that to him. Before anything else weird could happen, Connor dashed out and high-tailed it back home.

For a long time, Connor lay in bed staring at the ceiling. This day had been atrocious from start to finish. And now as he rested in bed, he couldn’t get that man’s damn smile out of his head. Why was this happening? Not only is it like he’s invisible to everyone else who exists, but also then this random stranger just waltzes in and he suddenly forgets how to breathe, and his smile is the only thing he can think about? Suddenly, his mind flickered to his dream from last night. He wouldn’t be able to charm or woo anyone because of a “soul mate” or something ridiculous like that. He couldn’t help but snort at the very idea. Absolutely ridiculous. Soul mates didn’t exist. Curses—or whatever _this_ was—didn’t exist. It was just a bad day, and a simple coincidence. Nothing a good night’s sleep couldn’t fix.

Or at least, that’s what he assumed. Connor would soon learn that he needed to listen to what was happening. Because it _was_ real. He was cursed. And he had met his soul mate. Now the clock was ticking. A year was all he had now to make the stranger fall in love with him for the curse to be lifted. As a reminder of the curse, the numbers “ _365_ ” were etched onto his right wrist. The numbers would decrease by one every day—showing Connor how much time he had left before his time was up. Then he would forever be under the spell of his soul mate, who he would lose forever—unless he could fall in love, and also be fallen in love with. The counter would only be visible to him as he went on this yearlong journey to finding himself, and learn to find love.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has been going through life, wooing and seducing people left and right without even batting an eye. As fate would have it, his days of seduction are over. Now, he must learn to love his soul mate, a stranger he has a brief encounter with when leaving a bar. The catch? His charms cease to work on any one who isn't his soul mate. Double catch? His soul mate must learn to love him as well, despite his many flaws. Being on a time crunch, can Connor the player learn to love? Can he beat the clock before he loses everything-even his soul mate-forever?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter! So sorry it took forever to get up. Huge shoutout to [Katie](http://ccoliver.tumblr.com) and [Molly](http://tossmymagicgoldenhair.tumblr.com) for editing this for me.
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](http://ilikeyouxactually.tumblr.com).

A solid week later, the counter reads _358_ , and Connor would be lying if he said he wasn’t freaking out. Every morning when he woke, the number went down by one. He tried his hardest to convince himself that it was just bullshit, it wasn’t real. And it proved easier to feel that when literally _no one else_ could see the damn thing. But it pegged the question, why could he? And what was it? And why the hell couldn’t he get the stranger’s dorky, doofy smile out of his head?

The more time Connor had to reflect on his brief encounter with Mystery Man, the more he was able to really think about it. Strangers smile at each other all the time, for one. That wasn’t as obscure as he originally thought. Contrary to popular belief, people _are_ nice. Well, he might not be. But other people are. Then again… something about the way Mystery Man smiled at him still made his stomach churn.

It was the kind of smile you would give to someone you know, or were even friendly with. But this guy? He didn’t know Connor. Wasn’t even friendly with him. So why was Connor so worked up about it? Maybe it was the way the man’s eyes squinted and crinkled from how wide his lips stretched. Or maybe it was how his lips seemed to overcome his entire face. As if his face would _break_ if he smiled any wider. Connor couldn’t remember the last time anyone looked at him like that…and that meant something.

Most looks he received consisted of raised eyebrows, amused, upturned lips, and seductive, undressing-you-with-my-eyes type of looks. Not looks that spoke things like “I want to take you home and cuddle with you on the couch and maybe make out until we can’t breathe.” Though, the thought of that didn’t sound all that bad. And those thoughts alone _terrified_ Connor, because he didn’t _do_ cuddling on the couch. That was something couples did, and he _definitely_ didn’t do couples. All of this garbage of meeting parents, being exclusive, being all mushy-gushy on Facebook—writing dumb comments like _“I love you, honey_ _♡_ _”—_ sickened him.

Which was why quick hookups were _so_ much easier. No hassles. No strings attached. No commitments. No worries. But apparently things weren’t that easy.

So that’s why Connor found himself down at the bar again. Sitting alone in the corner, watching everyone else have fun while he was left there unable to get anyone’s attention. He could probably run stark naked through the place right now, and no one would even bat an eye at him. He was keeping his clothes on.

“Hey,” a sudden voice came, startling Connor. Turning to his left, he was met face-to-face with the stranger. Mystery Man. The one with the haunting smile that had been stuck in Connor’s head for the past week. And just like last week, Connor considered not paying attention to him—he wouldn’t normally. But he was the only one who would look at and speak to Connor, so why the hell not?

“Hey,” Connor replied warmly, giving a half-interested smile.

“Mind if I sit here? I don’t do _this_ very often…kinda intimidating,” a blush crept over the stranger’s face as he took a careful sip of his beverage. Connor almost snorted in response, because _this_ was his whole life. Going out, meeting guys…it was what he did.

“Be my guest.” Connor cleared his throat, glancing around as an awkward silence took over. He wasn’t about to say anything like ‘Oh yeah, I do this all the time, no big deal’—he was cocky, sure, but not completely full of himself.

“So, I’m Oliver,” The stranger—now named Oliver—said simply. He was fishing. Fishing for Connor’s name. Maybe expecting something to come of this? What’d Connor have to lose?

“Connor,” His voice was straight and monotone. Honestly, he sounded uninterested. But apparently Oliver just didn’t seem to catch it or mind because he didn’t move.

“Connor,” Oliver repeated with a cute smile. Yes, it was cute. Damn cute at that. The way his face crinkled up from smiling too wide. Dammit. Damn _him_. “So, what do you do for work?” Casual small talk never settled well with Connor. It was too much of the _let’s get to know each other and fall in love_ type of thing. Normally, the most he got to know of people were their names. That was all that was important.

“Uh, I work for a defense attorney. Annalise Keating. You’ve probably heard of her.” Connor explained with a shrug. His job wasn’t anything all that fancy or glamorous. If anything, he was just a glorified assistant or office boy, running around doing chores. “What about you?”

“Oh nothing special--just an IT nerd who works on computers. As if the glasses didn’t give my geekiness away, that _definitely_ did.” Oliver gave a soft chuckle, his cheeks puffing, and eyes squinting as he grinned. Connor watched as Oliver rolled a lip between his teeth, making his heart flutter. This guy was a total nerd, not that it mattered. But he wasn’t Connor’s type. He probably liked Star Wars or Star Trek—maybe both—probably owned the entire Lord of the Rings series _extended edition_ and liked to marathon it and call it a date. And unsettlingly enough, it actually sounded kind of _nice_.

Connor just offered a grin in response, tipping back his head to finish off his water. Not exactly going crazy or all-out tonight. Especially not while he was sucking at making small talk. He was hoping that Oliver would just continue talking, invite him home, or leave. “You know,” Oliver interrupted Connor’s thoughts, “I saw you leaving last week and I just about died. I mean, you must get told _all_ the time how gorgeous you are—am I right? It seemed weird you were all by yourself tonight…unless you were waiting for someone and I just cut right in…”

“Oh no…no, no no, nothing like that,” Connor corrected—far too quickly. Probably giving Oliver the illusion that he _liked_ being there with him. Maybe he did, to a point, but he wasn’t going to let him know that. Unfortunately, Oliver’s face turned brighter than a tomato at Connor’s comment, leaving him a stuttering mess. But that was to be expected, though.

“Oh! Well, in that case, can I give you my number? Sadly I have work really early tomorrow so I can’t stay out late, but I’d like to hang out sometime—if you’re okay with it I mean. Maybe dinner or something?” Oliver was already handing Connor his phone so that he could punch in his number. So he did. Gave Oliver his number, hoping to god that Oliver wouldn’t be one of these weirdos that texted him constantly and was up his ass if he didn’t reply right away. After Connor typed in his number, he handed the phone back with a smile.

“Yeah, dinner would be fine. We’ll get in touch and work something out.” Probably not. Oliver would text him a few times, Connor would make up some bullshit reason why he couldn’t hang out, and then he’d soon be forgotten. Brushed under the rug and in the clear. Oliver flashed an enthusiastic smile, completely smitten as he said goodbye, and left the bar. Connor let out an exasperated breath, feeling totally exhausted. Why would anyone want to do this? It was nerve wracking and unneeded stress.

After a few failed hookup attempts, he finally started to make his way home. The entire walk home, he kept thinking about Oliver the IT nerd. Who likes to smile _a lot_ and has a really soothing voice and actually seems like a really nice guy. Why the hell did he want to get caught up with Connor?

Just before Connor collapsed on his bed once he was back in his apartment, his phone buzzed, screen lighting up with an alert of a text from an unknown number.

_???: I hate to seem desperate, but I thought it was only fair I give you my number after forcing you to give me yours_ _:)_ _-Oliver_

Connor stared at the message for several seconds, hovered his finger over the _delete_ button, wondering if he should just end this before it even starts. _Screw it_ , he thought, as he tapped the button to create a new contact.

“Oliver.” 


End file.
